


"we were gods"

by hobbes



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Ancient History, F/M, Gen, Speculation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-03-29
Updated: 2013-03-29
Packaged: 2017-12-06 20:02:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 422
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/739558
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hobbes/pseuds/hobbes
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Hell, admittedly, looks rather good on him and she hates herself for thinking it but it's true.</p>
            </blockquote>





	"we were gods"

**Author's Note:**

  * For [PotofCoffee](https://archiveofourown.org/users/PotofCoffee/gifts).



 

When she sighs and rolls her shoulders forward, the cracks in Naomi's finely tailored armor start to show; then it's anyone's guess at how old she really is. Ageless, whispers someone. No, no that can't be quite right. But no one else can remember proper, she's just The Boss.

 Down, down, down somewhere she doesn't know or care (that's a dirty lie, angels aren't supposed to lie; she does care a little bit) Crowley remembers. He knows, cocky bastard that he is; doesn't make him any better. He wasn't always that way, or yet...maybe he was. It's been so long since she'd brushed him off so callously.

 Hell, admittedly, looks rather good on him and she hates herself for thinking it but it's true.

 So she softens her jaw, eases her lips that have grown so used to frowning; rubs her temples and when she's sure no one is watching-- closes her eyes. She's a big girl, she won't cry. She doesn't think she could, not properly, not the way soft children like Castiel. She shudders a little, shoulderblades aching. Stupid boy.

 This is all her fault, isn't it? She admits it, once (and never again) before remembering that stupid bull and stupid Gilgamesh and stupid, stupid, stupid...

 Naomi sends the paper weights, the hollow desk decorations  on her desk flying, screaming at the walls that never seem to echo and makes a fist as she slams it down.

 

 

"Oh boy, twice in an era, isn't this a treat?" It's Crowley that finds her at an abandoned bus stop on the cliffs of Dover amidst a nasty rainstorm. "Found our boy yet have we?"

 "Not going to answer that." she mutters, hands folded in front of herself.

 Must he always be so smug? Even on bad terms, he was like a jester. Always smiling. Always lying.

 She doesn't regret sending him. Naomi repeats this to herself several times before cracking a small smile, reaching out to touch his shoulder. "I'm going to end you."

 "I seriously doubt that, sweetheart." She wants to wretch at the stench he leaves...charr and ash and death.

 "I did it once."

 "Yeah, and look how that turned out. Your sister, by the way, sends her love." Naomi rolls her eyes, retreats behind her folded arms, her indignant look.

 She doesn't regret sending him to Hell. Naomi peeks out at the pouring rain and peeks out at it, wayward drop falling on her nose and running lazily down her cheek.

Funny it almost feels like crying.


End file.
